Thursday, May 7, 2009

Spotlight on: JERRY FLYNN

Fame is a fickle whore. It is fleeting, difficult to obtain and once you grab a hold of it all it does is try to struggle free from your grasp. Only the most fortunate among us grabs hold of fame and rides the fuck out of it. Jerry Flynn is one of those luck souls, and this is his tale...

HUMBLE BEGINNINGS

On a stormy January night in 1962 Jerry Flynn fought his way out of the womb of his mother, Ellen. Ellen Harrison was a school bus driver in Boardman, North Carolina. She had an ill advised one night stand with town drunk Otis Riles, and due to his poor timing and horribly executed attempt at the old "Catholic Ejection Seat" Jerry was conceived. Otis then vanished from Ellen and Jerry's lives forever. On that rainy night Ellen sat in the bathtub of her single wide trailer, giving birth as the trailer park handyman and noted KungFu expert Fred "Iron Claw" Flynn acting as her mid wife. After hours and hours of pushing it became apparent that the baby she was trying to shit out of her snatch was too fucking awesome for simple vaginal birth and with one swift spin kick he managed rip open his mother's womb and emerged from a gaping hole in her abdomen. Fred was so in awe of this rad ass little dude that he totally forgot that Ellen was bleed out her vag and stomach and sat there looking into young Jerry's eyes as she bled to death. On that day, a bond was formed between the two that could never be broken. Fred knew that the death of Jerry's mother would only serve to fuel the desire that he saw in the infant's eyes so he promptly took her corpse and ground it up into a puree that he fed Jerry for the first 3 months of his life. Fred decided to raise this bastard child as his own and gave him the greatest gift he could think of: His last name. A legend was born, quite literally.

LEARNING THE DEADLY ARTS

Fred was something of a legend in and around the Boardman area. He was a self proclaimed "Bad Ass Mother Fucker" and taught himself KungFu by repeatedly viewings of Bruce Lee movies and readings of Black Belt magazine. He stood roughly 6'3 (6'8 if you count his flat top mullet). He was famous for his propensity to walk into bars and spin kick the fuck out of the biggest man he could find. He owned the trailer park in which he lived and worked in by beating the shit out of every resident there until they handed the deed to their property over to him. He once stabbed a man with a toothpick for not covering his mouth while sneezing. No one looked Fred in the eye, much less spoke to him.That is what made his love for young Jerry all the more astonishing. His neighbors saw this rugged, grizzled man caring for a helpless baby and assumed he was a changed man, so they showed up at his front door baring gifts. They were wrong, and Fred slaughtered them all. He still kept the gifts. By the time Jerry was 3 months old he had mastered walking. By 6 months he was running two miles a day. By the time his first birthday came around Jerry had obtained a blue belt in KungFu under Fred. Jerry took to KungFu like a Mexican to stealing or a Samoan to eating. Or like a Mexican/Samoan to eating stolen food. At the age of 6 Jerry was banned from public schools for spin kicking the fuck out of the entire staff and faculty. Fred decided that his son was too goddamned RAW for pussy ass school so he decided it was time for Jerry to take his show on the road. They traveled from town to town, fighting all along the way. Fred would walk into local watering holes and say that he had a kid outside who could whip the shit out of any grown man and that he was willing to wager $1,000 to prove it. Hundreds of men would jump for this chance. All of them would get knocked the fuck out by little ass Jerry. The money was rolling in. But, as life is known to do, fucked up shit was on the horizon for Fred.

A MENTOR, SLAIN

Jerry Flynn was now a 13 year old boy. He was nearly as tall as his father, and had even managed to successfully impregnate 17 women, although he managed to abort each of these unwanted fetuses via either spin kick or uppercut.One night Fred told Jerry one night that he was going out to get a pack of smokes. Fred walked out the door, not knowingthat this would be the last time that he would speak to his son. Fred had recently made his way onto a local motorcycle gang's shit list by fucking all of their old ladies in a single, glorious night. They managed to corner Fred in a junkyard as all 126 members of "The Black Widows" surrounded him.Cholla, the leader of the gang approached Fred and said "Fred Flynn, this is your day of reckoning" and at his command the entire gang attacked Fred. What happened next is still not entirely certain, although this much is known: Fred managed to kill 60 of the Black Widows before he was somehow stabbed in the heart by an antennae from a 65 Dodge Duster. 13 miles away, a sleeping Jerry jumped out of bed as the life left his father's body and hopped onto his Huffy and sped to the scene of Fred's death.Jerry saw the remaining 66 members of the Black Widows standing around his father's body and did something he had never done before: He shed a tear. And then he cracked the skulls of all of the bikers and avenged his father's death. He then wrapped up Fred's body in linen and set it on fire as a way of sending his spirit into the universe. Not like a Jedi funeral, because Jedi are huge faggots. For the first time ever, Jerry was all alone.ONE MAN VS THE WORLDJerry never realized how much he relied on his father until he was gone. Fred paid the bills. Fred cooked the meals. Most importantly, Fred lined up all the fights. There was only one thing Fred could do: Go pro. There was one tiny problem: MMA hadn't been invented yet. So, Jerry invented it. On July 18th, 1976 Jerry hosted the very first MMA card in the backyard of some chick he was fucking. 165 people paid $200 each to sit on the grass and watch as Jerry beat the fuck out of 7 guys in a row. After doing this and not so much as breaking a sweat he decided that the fans hadn't gotten their monies worth so he then fought all 7 of those guys at the same time and knocked all of them out in different manners. The card was a huge success and before Jerry knew it he was running sold out shows in junior college gyms all up and down the Eastern Seaboard. Jerry was making shit loads of money and fucking all sorts of bitches. Life was good. Then, one day a tiny ass Brazilian showed up to his front door and told Jerry that if he had any balls at all he would go to Brazil and fight him. Jerry had no clue who this Gandhi looking fuck head was, but he wasn't no bitch so he told him he would be there. The man left his business card and walked away. The card read "Helio Gracie, BJJ Stud/ Watermelon Juice Exporter". Jerry had just taken his first step into a much larger universe.

LIGHTNING FOOT IS BORN

Jerry Flynn was met at the airport by Helio Gracie himself. Flynn stepped into Gracie's limo and the two said nothing as they drove to the Gracie family compound. When they arrived he was quickly ushered into the Gracie family courtyard where TV cameras and a crowd of around 3,000 people had assembled. Jerry was shown to his dressing room where he put on his kickboxing pants and rubbed a fresh coat of gel into his flat top. He emerged from the dressing room and saw the diminutive Gracie kneeling with his back to him, draped in a black gi. Jerry laughed at the sight and asked the old man how he intended to fight in his pajamas. Helio responded by slapping the young Jerry across the mouth. The fight was on! For 5 hours the two danced around, trying to get a feel for the other. No one in attendance was bored in the least. Finally, Jerry attempted a roundhouse kick which Helio caught and quickly managed to take Jerry down to mat. This was uncharted territory for Flynn. No one had ever tried to make him fight off of his back before. Before Jerry knew it he was being smothered by Helio'sgi as the Brazilian worked on various submissions. Jerry managed to eventually power out and got back to his feet. Now he was pissed. He charged Helio and threw about 3o kicks and punches in the blink of an eye. All of them landed and Helio was in trouble. Jerry was intrigued by the submission holds that Gracie had tried to use on him and decided to try one himself. He applied an armbar and snapped Helio's arm like it was a dang old chicken bone. The stubborn old fuck refused to submit so Jerry did the same thing to his other arm with the same result. At this point Helio's young son Royce freaked the fuck out and threw in the towel. This enraged both Helio and Jerry, and Jerry walked up to Royce and spin kicked him so hard that Royce shit his gi. Helio, both of his arms hanging and soon to be amputated, smiled at Jerry and said. "You, Mr. Flynn, you have quick feet. Feet like... LIGHTNING. You are LIGHTNING FOOT." Jerrybowed to his vanquished foe and caught a ride back to airport. He returned to the US and went back to work, waiting for his next challenge.

AN UNLIKELY ADVERSARY

Jerry was never a fan of pro wrestling. To him it was little more than "a bunch of sissified faggot shit for faggots", and in many ways he was right. He never took pro wrestlers seriously, so the day a muscular, bald Jew showed up at his door he didn't so much as bat an eye. The man's name was Bill Goldberg and he was bound and determined to show the world that pro wrestling was the strongest fighting style. He had trained in grappling with enormous dick wad and rumored kid fucker Alonzo Spellman and considered himself to be a tough guy. At first Lightning Foot refused to engage the fake fighter, knowing full well that it was a no-win situation for him. If he won, all he managed to do was beat up some fruit in trunks. If he lost, well, that wasn't really part of the equation. So he sat silently, building a hard-as-fuck ship in a bottle as Goldberg continued to disparage him and KungFu. All of Goldberg's insults bounced off of Flynn until Goldberg uttered the words "Your daddy was a pussy". Lightning Foot felt electricity surge through his body and grabbed his dope ass ship in a bottle and busted it over Goldberg's head, which was a shame because this thing was fucking TITS. I'm not sure how they grade the difficulty of ship in a bottle building, but on a 1-10 scale this shit was like a 37, at the least. He told Goldberg that he accepted his challenge but demanded that the bout be fought under HIS rules and that the fight take place in... THE BLOCK. Goldberg had no clue what Flynn's rules were or even what the block was. If he did his kike ass would have GTFOed while he still had a chance. Stupid asshole.

HATE CRIME LEVEL ASS BEATING

Promoter Don King jumped all over the chance to promote this super fight like a bum on a baloney sandwich. As the fight grew closer and closer King set up a press conference where Flynn would tell the world what his stipulations for the match were, and more importantly, what "The Block" was. The morning of the press conference Flynn put on his father's best suit, ran some LA Looks through his hair and stepped onto the stage to look Goldberg in the eye. He told a packed crowd that his rules for the match were simple: There were no rules and the only way to stop the fight was by DEATH. The crowd was shocked. In-ring fatalities may have been the norm in Japan, Mexico and other shit hole countries inhabited by savage fucks, but the US was considered too high brow for that kind of barbarism. Flynn made it clear that this bout was too intense to take place on American soil, so he managed to clear the way for it take place on the deck of a US Navy aircraft carrier in international waters. Turns out President Bill Clinton was a huge Lightning Foot mark and made sure all the red tape was cleared. Then, Flynn described in great detail what "THE BLOCK" was. "THE BLOCK" was an iron octagon with one door that would be locked from the outside. Inside "THE BLOCK" the two men would be locked up. Only one man would emerge victorious. A hushed silence fell over the crowd and Goldberg's cocky smirk now gave way to a look of genuine fear. He had demanded this fight, and now it had become something he had not expected. His doom was sealed. Ever the showman, Goldberg put on a brave face and left the press conference promising that he would deliver a "Hate crime level ass beating". These were hollow words, and Goldberg himself knew that.

THE DEATH OF A LOUD MOUTHED JEW

As the fight approached Goldberg became more and more desperate. He attempted to pull out of the fight, only to have Don King's army of well paid lawyers inform him that doing so would give Flynn free reign to murder his Goldberg's entire family. He tried to get out of the fight by faking an injury, only to have a team of medical experts deem him fit to compete. He became increasingly suicidal and was eventually placed in protective custody on suicide watch. As the day of the fight arrived Goldberg had resigned himself to his fate.

The fight itself went off pretty much as expected. Goldberg came out to his fruity ass pyrotechnic enhanced fake wrestler garbage entrance while Flynn walked out to nothing but the sound of silence and his own footsteps on the metallic deck of the aircraft carrier. The two men were locked in the cage, Goldberg came running at Flynn, Flynn jumping spin kicked Goldberg in the face, mounted his fallen body and punched the ever loving shit out of him until all life left his body. As Goldberg lay dying Flynn leaned over and whispered into his ear "My father was NOT a pussy, and now you know that. Say hi to him when you get to Heaven. You'll know who he is, he'll be the dude kicking the shit out of you for all eternity. Bye bye, asshole." Flynn then applied a rear naked choke and sent Goldberg off to Valhalla. With Goldberg dead the referee opened the door to cage. As Flynn made his way out of "THE BLOCK" the stunned servicemen (no women)slowly began clapping until all of them were cheering their asses off. The fight was a huge success and received over 30,000,000 PPV buys. Jerry Flynn was at the peak of the mountain, and now it was time to come back down.

THIS IS THE END, MY ONLY FRIEND

Addressing the servicemen and PPV audience he announced his retirement from combat sports. He now had inner peace and had no further desire to maim and murder. He also announced that he was opening his own KungFu academy in his hometown of Boardman, NC. To this day you can walk through the streets of downtown and hear the terrified screams of his teenage students, and, if you're lucky, the snapping of an arm or two. Flynn still lives in his mother's trailer, although he now has cable TV so he can watch "The Wire". When I informed him that "The Wire" was over he chuckled and said "Oh yeah?" and then picked up his phone. Two days later I read in Variety that HBO was filming new episodes of "The Wire" in a furious dash due to "popular demand". Coincidence? I think not!

given the bountiful irl freakiness and hilarity in the fighting/fake fighting world, if your immediate instincts in composing a blog post are "lukewarm onion pastiche" or "behind the music that sucks: wrestling edition" this may not be your thing. or maybe you just need to put more thought into this, i dunno.

as it stands jerry flynn's actual career of fake "real" fights is more funny than "Jerry Flynn was decreed 'King of Kick' by the united nations ass-beating subcommittee"

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6-3-94 Manifesto

In the days of ancient Rome men tried to best each other physically by imposing their will on one other. Sometimes this lead to the death of one of the competitors. Sometimes it lead to a friendship or brotherhood bond being formed. More often than not it ended with the two dudes fucking the shit out of each other. Faggotry and wrestling have long had a mutually parasitic relationship. Where faggotry is afoot wrestling cannot be far behind. Where there is wrestling you can rest assured that faggotry is nearby, jerking off furiously. This is the way it has always been and the way it shall always be. Though men have tried to change this dynamic throughout the ages they have all failed. Spandex, pyrotechnics, midgets, fake tits and sports entertainment cannot mask the overwhelming scent of gay that always accompanies wrestling. You can always be certain of these three things: The sun always rises in the morning, politicians always lie and wrestling will always be gay as fuck. We are merely observers; scribes charged with the duty of recording, analyzing and mocking this faggotry. These are our words.